


Winter Roses

by Kantayra



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-22
Updated: 2010-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-13 23:41:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian gives Finnian leave to throw a welcome party for Snake. Only with no fireworks. (So, of course, there are fireworks.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Roses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EnohIO](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnohIO/gifts).



Maylene had taken to hiding around corners and peering nervously out, and Bard seemed preoccupied with mixing various explosive substances while muttering strange things about “snake jerky,” and Sebastian was…well, _perfect_ , but not exactly _warm_ , per se. So, in the end, Finnie concluded that it was up to him to properly welcome the newest member of their family.

Or, at the very least, it was easiest for Finnie, since Snake spent most of leisure time lying sprawled over the hot floor of the greenhouse, and the greenhouse was Finnie’s primary domain in wintertime.

The thought first occurred to Finnie nearly a week after Snake had been hired. Finnie hadn’t seen Snake at all during that time, largely due to two significant snowfalls that had kept Finnie outside, gleefully shoveling the Manor walks, garden paths, driveways, surrounding lanes, and the road all the way into town and back. Several of the villagers had given Finnie an odd look at the rate he was clearing miles of snow from the roads, but Finnie couldn’t bring himself to care because it was winter, and he was outside, and the sun was shining.

He easily finished such a minor task before noon that day and was carrying his shovels, ice-picks, and chippers back into the greenhouse, when he promptly tripped over something large and kind of squishy and fell flat on his face. Snow-removing accoutrements flew everywhere with a great clamor.

“Ow,” said the large thing Finnie had tripped over, “…says Wordsworth.”

“Oh no!” Finnie scrambled up in alarm. “Is Wordsworth all right?”

Wordsworth was currently twined between the thorns of one of the rosebushes Finnie had brought in and didn’t look like he’d been part of the collision at all; Snake, on the other hand, looked slightly flatter than usual.

“Just give me a minute,” Snake wheezed, “says Keats.”

Finnie waited patiently. Keats slithered up Snake’s body and flicked his tongue against Snake’s nose. In the meantime, Wordsworth disentangled himself from the rosebushes, climbed some ivy, and looked at Finnie from eye level.

“I’m really, really sorry,” Finnie laughed apologetically and began picking up fallen snow paraphernalia. “I couldn’t see you, er, lying in the middle of the floor for no reason like that.” Finnie didn’t like to judge, but it did seem a bit odd, in retrospect.

Snaked wheezed and heaved again and sat up. Keats wrapped encouragingly around his shoulders. “This is the warmest place in the estate, says Keats.”

Wordsworth flicked his tongue in Finnie’s direction. Finnie gave Snake an expectant look. Snake frowned back at Finnie.

“What?” Snake demanded warily.

“What does Wordsworth say?” Finnie asked curiously and tickled Wordsworth under the chin.

Snake blinked at Finnie like there was something exceptionally odd about him.

“Wordsworth just opened his mouth.” Finnie gave Wordsworth another rub under the chin; Wordsworth’s eyes squeezed shut in what looked like pleasure. “What did he say?”

“He said…he hates this snow,” Snake said curiously, this time. “And also that you are the first person to ask what he has said since we left home.”

“That’s sad,” Finnie said to both. “Does that mean there’s no snow where you and Wordsworth are from?” Wordsworth took the opportunity to slither up Finnie’s arm.

“No.”

“What do you do for Christmas, then?” Finnie wondered.

“Er?” Snake blinked.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t get Wordsworth anything for _Christmas_?” Finnie’s eyes widened in alarm. “Or Keats, or Brontë, or Wilde, or Oscar, or Emi—” Finnie’s eyes widened even further, and he thrust Wordsworth back into Snake’s hands. “Don’t worry! I’ll take care of it!” He ran off.

Snaked blinked some more. “That boy,” he began thoughtfully, stroking Wordsworth’s head, “is very odd.”

Wordsworth gave Snake a dirty look.

“Says Webster,” Snake hastily added.

***

Finnie burst into the kitchen in time to see a fireball burst from the oven. Bard emerged, only slightly singed, so Finnie didn’t take much notice; there were _always_ fireballs in the kitchen, after all.

“Quick!” Finnie asked Bard. “What kind of cakes do snakes like?”

Bard pulled off his goggles and blinked at Finnie like he’d gone insane. Then, he reconsidered thoughtfully. “Snake cake? I’m not sure the Earl would go for that. But maybe snake flambé…”

Emily slid along the floor at the bottom edge of the oven – another of the warm places in the estate, Finnie deduced – and gave Bard a dirty look.

Bard screeched, scampered back, and grabbed a kitchen knife for good measure, until Emily completed her trek back into the mouse hole in the far wall. “They’re always in here,” Bard said and shakily set down the knife.

“It’s toasty in here,” Finnie explained happily. “You’re lucky. I can’t take them with me when I work outside in this weather.”

Bard looked at Finnie like he was insane; Finnie was rather used to those looks and ignored it.

“Don’t you like animals?” Finnie asked Bard, honestly perplexed.

“ _Animals_ , yes. Cute, fuzzy animals.” Bard let out another nervous squeak and leapt onto a chair as Dan slid under the door and made his way under the table. “How’d it get from there,” Bard pointed with the knife he was brandishing again to the mouse hole, “to _there_?” He pointed to the kitchen door.

Finnie shook his head at Bard. “Don’t be silly. That was Emily, and this is Dan.”

Bard didn’t look reassured by the knowledge that there were _two_ large vipers in his kitchen.

“Anyway, this is important,” Finnie shook aside the distraction. “I just realized that we never threw a party for Mr. Snake and all his friends when they arrived, and we want them to feel like they’re part of the family, right?”

Bard blinked at Finnie; it was another reaction Finnie was quite used to.

“So, we have tomorrow off, and I thought we could take tonight to throw them a belated welcome party!” Finnie announced cheerfully. “Did you know that Wordsworth didn’t get a Christmas present this year?”

“Who’s Wordsworth?” Bard said warily. “That one?” He pointed with the knife down to Dan, who was coiling lovingly around the legs of the chair Bard was standing upon.

“Of course not. That’s still Dan.” Finnie shook his head. “But I don’t know what kind of cake snakes like.” Finnie frowned. “Or are cookies more appropriate this time of year?”

“Mice would be more appropriate.”

The last was said by Sebastian, who had just dashed into the kitchen. Sebastian dashed just about everywhere, which Finnie found particularly impressive, since Finnie wasn’t particularly slow himself, but Sebastian was always dashing twice as fast and ten times as urgently as Finnie, seemingly nonstop, for the entire day. Finnie didn’t see how Sebastian managed such a thing, but Finnie didn’t dwell on it since, honestly, Finnie didn’t dwell on much of anything. Except for fun, happy things like surprise parties for his newest friends.

“Mice?” Bard made a face like he didn’t approve of mice, either, and glanced at the hole Emily had vanished into.

“It is a side benefit to having Snake here that I hadn’t, at first, considered.” Sebastian threw together egg-whites, sugar, and butter, and began mixing them with the frenzy of a man possessed. Meanwhile, Bard’s oven coughed out another miniature fireball. “The vipers make excellent mousers.” Sebastian smiled, as used to ignoring fireballs as Bard and Finnie were.

Bard grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest.

Finnie immediately turned to Sebastian as a source of more willing advice on how to plan Snake’s party. “Can we make mouse cookies, then?”

Sebastian blinked, too; _everyone_ did at Finnie from time to time. “For our newest servants, I’m hoping?”

Finnie nodded vigorously; Sebastian looked relieved. “We never had a welcome party for Mr. Snake, and our day off is coming up, and Mr. Snake had to miss Christmas due to his travels, and—”

“I see.” Sebastian threw flour into his mixture and beat it with a speed roughly analogous to a tornado. “That seems like a wonderful idea,” he beamed in a way that usually meant that the rest of the servants had mucked something up royally and Sebastian was on the warpath.

Finnie and Bard gulped instinctively.

“A little mid-winter festivity couldn’t hurt,” Sebastian continued.

Bard perked up and opened his mouth to speak—

“But no fireworks,” Sebastian hastily ordered.

Bard’s expression fell. He considered for a moment, opened his mouth again, and—

“ _No fireworks_ ,” Sebastian repeated.

Bard sighed regretfully.

“You’ll let us do it, then?” Finnie bounced.

“I’ll leave it up to you.” Sebastian poured the batter perfectly into a dish, set the dish into an oven which was well away from Bard’s smoking oven, and dashed right back out.

Bard waited for a moment to make sure Sebastian was really gone, and then—

“No fireworks!” Sebastian dashed back in and then right back out again.

Bard slumped.

“We get to have a party!” Finnie cheered, oblivious to all this. “Can you make mouse cookies?”

Bard looked a bit queasy at the prospect.

Dan finally took pity on Bard and disentangled himself from Bard’s chair leg.

Finnie shook his head at Bard. “It’s not like they’re any harder to get used to than your fireballs, you know,” Finnie pointed out.

Bard grumbled some more at this, said something about “snake stew,” and eyed something that looked very suspiciously like fireworks in the corner.

***

Finnie found Maylene in the sitting room, wielding a feather duster in one hand while blinking myopically at a small African statuette. Upon closer inspection, Finnie noted that the statuette was quite dusty, but _also_ that it was the same statuette that Sebastian had warned them was cursed and that they should not touch under any circumstances, for fear of instant death. Finnie sympathized with Maylene’s dilemma.

“You should probably just report it to Mr. Sebastian,” Finnie said. “Remember what happened with the haunted vase.”

At which, Maylene let out a yelp of surprise, spun on Finnie and instinctively caught him in some sort of specialized grip, and flung him over her shoulder, across the room, and into the bookshelves against the far wall.

“Oof,” Finnie said. He had forgotten that Maylene could do that: something about leverage and such, so that it didn’t matter _how_ strong Finnie was. In any case, he wasn’t hurt.

Maylene pushed her glasses back up to the bridge of her nose. “Finnie! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know it was you, and—” Her feather duster flew about wildly and missed the cursed statuette by mere inches.

Sebastian dashed in just long enough to stick his head in the door. “Did I just sense emanations from a cursed statuette stirring?”

“Sorry, sorry!” Maylene hastily pulled the feather duster away. “I won’t touch it!”

“Good girl. And remind Bardroy: No fireworks!” Sebastian smiled and dashed back out again. Sebastian always had a weird sixth sense about things like that.

“Anyway, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Finnie apologized. “I just needed to ask for your help with something.”

“Of course,” Maylene brandished her feather duster before her. “What do you need?”

“Do you know how to knit?” Finnie asked earnestly.

Maylene stared at him. From Finnie’s extensive experience on the subject, he concluded that she was blinking at him behind her glasses.

“Knit?” she finally asked warily.

Finnie nodded vigorously. “It’s important. Mr. Snake missed Christmas, so we’re throwing him a welcome party, and we need presents!”

“Er…” Maylene said and looked about carefully underfoot for any suspicious serpents.

“So, do you? Know how to knit, I mean?”

Maylene bit her lip. “Not really…” she admitted. “I _did_ once suspend a high-precision sniper rifle from a cathedral ceiling using a series of interwoven support ropes designed to blend in with the cathedral dome when viewed from below, and accessible from three different, strategic spotting locations, using a system of complex pulleys. If that, um, helps?” she added meekly.

“Not exactly what I was trying to do,” Finnie admitted glumly.

“Hmm,” Maylene considered. “There are books on how to do things like that.”

Finnie perked up. “In here?” he looked back at the bookshelf he’d just collided with.

“In the drawing room, I think.” Maylene led the way.

As they left the room, the cursed statuette muttered haunted whispers of disappointment.

Maylene found the book she’d been looking for on one of the lower shelves. “It looks complicated,” she squinted at the diagrams.

“Can you read it?” Finnie asked hopefully.

“Well, it’s mostly just pictures.” Maylene let Finnie see. “I think Mr. Tanaka has some knitting needles around somewhere.”

Finnie perked up at that. “Mr. Tanaka knits?”

***

Finding Tanaka was not necessarily an easy task. Since he was technically in retirement, he wasn’t scheduled for any active chores, although sometimes he pitched in on his own whims. Generally, he could be found in the kitchen to sample Sebastian’s teas before they were taken in to the Earl, but Tanaka had been doing that less of late, now that the kitchen was populated regularly by half a dozen or so highly venomous snakes.

Finnie searched the kitchen, Tanaka’s quarters, the parlors, library, and dining room, before he finally found Tanaka sitting halfway up the main staircase, just around the bend so that Finnie couldn’t see him from the ground floor. It was quite a drafty place: very few snakes.

“Mr. Tanaka,” Finnie skidded to a halt on the stairway just in time to avoid spilling over Tanaka the same way he had with Snake earlier. “Knitting needles!”

“Ho, ho, hum,” said Tanaka, which was the calmest, most understanding reaction Finnie ever got to his various pronouncements.

“There’s a surprise party to welcome Mr. Snake tomorrow, and we need knitting needles!” Finnie added for clarification.

Tanaka continued to guffaw to himself. Retirement, Finnie concluded, was a whole lot of fun.

“Maylene thought you might know where to find some?” Finnie suggested.

Tanaka dug into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out several sets of knitting needles that looked larger than the pocket itself. Perhaps a butler’s pockets were magical or something; Finnie had never had an opportunity to ask Tanaka when he was sensible, and Sebastian always smirked wickedly and made creepy shushing gestures whenever Finnie asked anything like that.

“Thanks so much, Mr. Tanaka!” Finnie beamed and ran off again.

Several seconds later, Finnie ran right back.

“Oh, right. Do you know how to knit, by any chance?”

“Ho, ho,” Tanaka nodded in agreement.

“Great! Come with me!” Finnie hoisted Tanaka up on his shoulders and ran off again.

“Hum,” Tanaka said.

Finnie was beginning to understand why Sebastian dashed around all day.

***

Finnie, Maylene, and Tanaka ended up in the servants’ hall because Bard was in the kitchen brandishing a flamethrower. Well, technically, they weren’t in the kitchen because Snake might show up there and catch them, but _really_ it was because Bard was brandishing a flamethrower.

Flamethrowers and knitting didn’t go well together, Finnie concluded. Finnie was also starting to conclude that knitting and _Finnie_ didn’t go so well together, either. The stitching itself was easy enough, when Finnie didn’t manage to crush the needles in his hands. However, once Finnie got started, he had an unfortunate tendency to keep going at superhuman speed, and by the time he heard Maylene’s alarmed shouts for him to stop, he’d knit away an entire ball of wool.

“We can just cut it off at the right length,” Maylene suggested. “It’ll work out.” She wrestled with the streamers she was trying to cut for decoration, which didn’t lend much confidence to her proclaimed ability to cut Finnie’s knitting.

“Ho, ho, hum,” Tanaka said and continued to knit away in the corner. They’d given him the most complicated task, since he seemed quite skilled at knitting, even when he wasn’t in a coherent mood.

In the kitchen, something exploded.

Everyone carried on as usual.

“This is going to be the best party ever!” Finnie said merrily.

Maylene smiled shyly at him. “What are we having to eat?”

“Well, I told Bard to make mouse cookies or something,” Finnie explained.

Maylene did the thing where Finnie was pretty sure she was blinking at him behind her glasses. “But what are _we_ going to eat?” she repeated.

“Oh.” Finnie scratched his head. “ _Right_.”

***

One would have thought that, for a group of professional servants like themselves, day-to-day tasks would have been simple, and throwing together a surprise party the extra challenge. In reality, it was the exact opposite. The party came together without a hitch, but supper for the evening was pretty much non-existent.

“What were you blowing up in here all day, then?” Sebastian demanded crossly, having just discovered this latter fact.

Bard coughed suspiciously and shrugged.

Sebastian sighed and surveyed what remained to prepare supper. “Hmm,” he considered, hefting a potato in one hand. “I suppose the haddock filets are still salvageable. Perhaps with a nice hollandaise? Some potato sauté, and…”

Finnie quickly lost track of what Sebastian was saying. It wasn’t Finnie’s concern anyway, just as long as no one starved to death.

Bard coughed.

Sebastian paused, with two separate sautéing pans in each hand. “Right,” he smiled benevolently. “Set the table, and then you can call it an evening. I’ll take care of matters here.”

Finnie, Bard, and Maylene all looked at Snake. Tonight, it wasn’t _just_ that Snake had yet to destroy any of the tableware; Finnie also wanted time to set up all their preparations in the servants’ hall before Snake retired with them for supper.

“R-Right,” Snake stuttered in his usual nervous and shy manner and headed for the dining room to take care of Sebastian’s request.

Finnie all but shoved Bard and Maylene into the servants’ hall. “Hurry!” he whispered, or at least _tried_ to whisper. The glass panes shook in response.

Sebastian stuck his head carefully in.

“Sorry,” Finnie said.

Bard promptly hid the flamethrower.

“There are no fireworks in here, correct?” Sebastian demanded.

Finnie, Bard, and Maylene all exchanged suspicious looks. Tanaka chuckled in his corner seat, already wearing his party hat.

“Well?” Sebastian tapped his foot impatiently.

“No, sir!” they all chimed in unison.

Sebastian sighed and ducked his head back out.

“Now,” Finnie grinned gleefully.

***

There was a period of waiting then, which Finnie was never good at in the first place. Also, it was dark and cramped and hot: all things which reminded Finnie far too much of his confinement. Finnie pushed those kinds of thoughts aside; this was a happy occasion, after all, and this wait would soon come to an end.

After what seemed an interminable wait, soft footsteps sounded outside the door to the servants’ hall, followed by the door creaking open, and—

“Surprise!” they all screamed.

In the door, Sebastian blinked at them. “Well, at least there weren’t any fireworks,” he commented seemingly to himself, entered the room, and shut the door behind him.

“What are _you_ doing here, Mr. Sebastian?” Finnie asked curiously.

Sebastian winked at Finnie in the darkness, and somehow Finnie could see it. In fact, it looked kind of like Sebastian’s eyes were glowing red, even though there was no firelight, so that really shouldn’t have been possible.

“I charged Snake with clearing the table this evening. He should be along within the next five minutes.”

Finnie looked up at Sebastian hopefully.

“After all, I _am_ part of the staff,” Sebastian continued. “Of course, I must attend a welcome party such as this.”

Finnie hugged him in a way that usually made people gasp that Finnie was choking them to death. For some reason, Sebastian never complained about that.

Instead, Sebastian just said, “ _Finnian_ ,” very sternly, and Finnie finally let him go.

It was even more crowded waiting now, but the excitement was more palpable now that they knew that the moment of anticipation was about to arrive.

Soon, another set of footsteps sounded outside. They could clear the dishes for supper being set aside for cleaning, and then Snake approached the door to the servants’ hall. “Are you in h—?” Snake opened the door.

“Surprise!” everyone exclaimed, and something exploded from Bard’s direction.

“Aiee!” Snake screamed and unleashed a barrage of poisonous vipers upon them all.

It was, Finnie concluded, the best surprise _ever_.

***

It took a good five minutes for everything to get sorted out, in which Snake apologized profusely for the snake attack (all of which Sebastian had somehow deflected at the last moment) and everyone else applauded and assured Snake that the entire staff had nearly killed each other at one point or another and it was nothing to worry about whatsoever.

Then Sebastian brought in the fish and stew he’d prepared for their supper, and Finnie stuck a party hat on Snake’s head, too, without even getting bitten. Bard opened up the fireplace, which had been baking all day, so that it was _far_ too hot in the servants’ hall, but Snake seemed to bask in it, and all his snakes literally _were_ basking on the masonry outside the grill.

Bard eyed them warily. “Er, here.” He set down a platter that Finnie hadn’t even noticed before, which contained a number of mice singed to various degrees.

“Is _that_ what you were blowing up all afternoon?” Finnie asked curiously.

Bard grumbled and dug into his own dinner.

The lanceheads lazily feasted upon Bard’s offering, while Bard and Maylene deliberately did not look. It wasn’t exactly _normal_ , but it was festive in its own strange way.

Snake sipped at his stew, but kept sneaking surreptitious glances up at the giant “Welcome, Mr. Snake!” banner that Maylene had made and hung from the ceiling. He kept muttering “thank you” under his breath so that they could scarcely hear it, and then amending it with “says Oscar” or the like.

After they finished their supper (except Sebastian, who oddly had not yet eaten, furthering the rumors that Sebastian never _did_ eat), Finnie brought out the presents. Wrapping had been a bit of a disaster, and some of the china hadn’t survived Maylene’s efforts, so Finnie just handed him out plainly, but Snake didn’t seem to notice the difference.

“Thank you,” Snake said again, snuggling into the extra-long winter scarf Tanaka had knitted him in red-and-green Christmas stripes, “says, er…everyone.”

Finnie was, at that moment, fitting Wordsworth into the very, very, _very_ long sock he’d made earlier, and Maylene had successfully cut into a dozen, snake-length pieces. The sock fit Wordsworth snuggly from tail-tip to eye, and Wordsworth flicked his tongue in approval.

“Now, no one will be cold this winter!” Finnie announced happily and moved on to clothing Brontë.

Snake’s eyes looked a little bit glassy, like no one had ever done something like this for him before.

“The best part is yet to come,” Bard elbowed Snake in the side and pulled a remote detonator from his pocket.

Sebastian’s eyes widened. “I thought I said no fire—”

Bard pushed the button.

“—works,” Sebastian finished wearily.

Fireworks exploded outside, but nothing burned to the ground this time. Only a few of the trees got a little singed, and Sebastian put those fires out with little effort.

Bard grinned at Sebastian unabashedly.

“It shouldn’t be possible for him to keep hiding those from me,” Sebastian murmured to himself and batted out the singes on his jacket that were lighting up again.

Snake watched the fireworks with wonder, awe, and – at the very end – the barest hint of a smile.

It really was, Finnie concluded, the best surprise party _ever_.

***

The next morning, Finnie woke up late. Since it was their day off, Finnie could wake as late as he wanted, and he had taken full advantage of it this morning. The party last night had gone on well past midnight, and Finnie wasn’t sure what hour he’d finally toddled off to bed.

He emerged from his bedroom with an expansive yawn and padded to the servants’ hall. There, he discovered that Bard, Maylene, and Tanaka apparently hadn’t awoken yet. There were signs of Sebastian’s passing in the kitchen, but Finnie figured Sebastian was the sort to wake at the crack of dawn, even when he’d gone to bed at the crack before dawn.

The party decorations from the previous night were still up, though. And, in the middle, Snake stood atop the dining table and was carefully lowering the welcome banner.

“Good morning!” Finnie said cheerfully.

Snake jumped but did not launch a lethal attack.

Finnie smiled at him. “Need help?”

Snake shook his head and finished taking down the banner. “Can I…?” he began hesitantly.

Finnie cocked his head at Snake.

“Keep it,” Snake finished in a shy mumble.

“Of course!” Finnie grinned and clapped Snake on the back. Finnie only succeeded in launching Snake _halfway_ across the room, which cheered Finnie because it just showed how much better he was getting at controlling his strength.

Snake coughed and blushed and carefully folded the banner so that he could carry it back to his room.

“So,” Finnie concluded, “do you feel warmer _now_?”

Snake looked at the Christmas scarf he still had wrapped around his neck.

“Inside, too!” Finnie insisted.

“I…suppose?” Snake shrugged awkwardly.

“Then the welcome party was a success, after all,” Finnie grinned.

Snake blinked at him.

Finnie grinned more.

“You’re still very odd,” Snake said slowly.

Finnie continued to grin.

“…But I guess you’re all right,” Snake concluded abashedly, “…says Wordsworth.”

Finnie caught him in an expansive hug, but remembered to let go when he heard Snake’s ribs start to creak.

Wordsworth winked at Finnie inside his body-sock by the fireplace. Because, of course, Wordsworth hadn’t said anything at all.


End file.
